About writing, literature, and life, and where they intersect.

The Sincerest Form of Cheating

Plagiarism. It’s all over the news this week. You know the weirdest thing about plagiarism? It’s that the word is so hard to spell, the best way say it in print is to copy it from somebody else. Really, it’s hard.

They say that, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” But the line between imitation and outright stealing can be fine. Remember the Led Zeppelin case? In today’s whirlwind media culture, it seems like it was years ago. That involved an allegation of plagiarism, too, but it turned out to be, at most, flattering imitation.

We’ve had other famous cases of plagiarism, often in journalism. In those cases, the perpetrator was usually fired. In the present instance, that’s kind of hard because the perp was, uh, the nominee’s wife. Oddly enough, the guy who made his fame by saying, “You’re fired,” can’t do that this time. (Unless that’s what he said to his other wives. In which case, who knows?) Apparently, not even the speechwriter who helped her is going to be punished. And whatever your political persuasion, that’s wrong.

As a writer, I detest plagiarism. It’s akin to book piracy, where someone sells your work for his own profit. Actually, it’s the same, differing only in degree. The words you sweated over are yours. And they are yours, should you so choose, to sell. Stealing them is no different from stealing your wallet.

Your mom also told you, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” She probably knew better, but she wanted you to be a better person. She wanted you to believe that words people threw at you couldn’t hurt.